Hestia
by Stormkpr
Summary: Azazel and Riptide retire from the Brotherhood, with Magneto's blessing. This multi-chaptered story chronicles their life together on their houseboat over a period of many years. We will see a wedding, a birth, and changing circumstances. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This fic will have a total of seven chapters. **

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

**1964**

Retirement definitely agreed with Azazel and Riptide. Both men would say that taking their leave of Magneto, bidding farewell on good terms at the time they did, was one of the best moves they ever made. Their retirement had been spurred on by numerous injuries they had received shortly after Magneto's took over the Brotherhood. Each man had experienced a broken arm, Azazel had been treated for a gunshot wound to his side, and Riptide still nursed a gash in his leg that had barely escaped infection. Both knew their days would be numbered if they remained soldiers in the war.

Azazel and Riptide heard tidbits from Mystique and Angel about battles they missed, close calls they weren't a part of. Occasionally one or the other felt a bit of bloodlust stir and recalled that he used to relish a good brawl. But both also vividly remembered plenty of battles that they had lost; they both bore scars and other painful remnants of their injuries. Azazel and Riptide now greatly preferred the life they made since leaving the Brotherhood.

They purchased a boat, which they named _Sparta_ because they liked the connections to warfare (even though they had now retired from it) and to ancient Greece (where they understood men had been allowed to love other men). _Sparta_ was not anywhere near as large as that old vessel they lived in together for so long during the eerie and bewildering years they had spent under Sebastian Shaw's thumb. Azazel and Riptide could now both look back at their escapades as members of the Hellfire Club and experience mixed emotions. They would never have ever met nor fallen in love had it not been for their now-deceased megalomaniac boss. But he had kept them both with tight chains around their necks, and they had spent years closing their eyes to the chains, pretending that they were free and were being primed to be kings.

Now they truly were free. _Sparta_ provided a comfortable home – not overly spacious but large enough with all the necessary amenities: kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, solid deck space, and even a lounge that could double as a guest room. The rooms weren't any larger than their cramped quarters in Shaw's long-destroyed vessel, but they were used to close quarters. Equally important, _Sparta_ moved quickly, was in top-notch shape, provided them with enchanting views from their deck, and was small enough that Azazel could teleport it a short distance if needed (for example, if they ran low on fuel or encountered bad weather that was too difficult to outrun).

_Sparta_ provided the haven they needed. They were two men together in a world that would cart them off to jail or force them to undergo barbaric "cures" for their love, they were mutants, and Azazel's appearance alone was not acceptable in any society. So they lived on a boat, on the seas, citizens of no country.

"What in the hell do you do all day?" Mystique asked during one of her visits.

The answer was fairly simple.

Much of their day revolved around the preparation and consumption of food, along with after-dinner drinks following both lunch and dinner. Both became exceptional cooks; Riptide had to purchase a few suits one size larger. Azazel took to smoking the most foul-smelling cigars, though he was only allowed to do this on _Sparta_'s deck.

Azazel's ability to steal so easily provided them with an abundance of distractions to pass the time: television, music, and movies on state-of-the-art equipment. English lesson books and tapes were studied daily with a fair amount of diligence; the two men need to keep their language skills current and even improve upon them if they wanted to communicate with each other well, let alone understand most of the movies they watched. It was still not unheard of for one of them to turn to the other during a movie and, feeling as though he missed a nuance, ask if the other fully understood the dialog that just took place.

Their days were rounded out by card games, board games, napping, and lazy afternoons sunbathing and reading on _Sparta_'s deck, looking at the sun sparkling on the water. Some days they spoke to each other a lot; other days they barely exchanged three sentences. And both found that acceptable.

When either Azazel or Riptide needed some time alone, they had options. Sometimes Riptide would sunbathe above deck while Azazel read or listened to music below deck. Azazel could teleport either of them away for some time off _Sparta_ too. But usually, these measures were not needed. They had spent the last seven years – both "during Shaw" and "post Shaw" - moving in unison and coexisting happily.

Riptide sometimes craved a night on the town; he did enjoy a bit of nightlife. Azazel could fairly easily make that happen too, teleporting Riptide to meet up with either Angel or Mystique – or both – for a fun evening out, with Magneto's approval of course.

And they had all day to play "Captain and Pool Boy" for as long as they wished.

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><p>Azazel lay on his back, still wearing his captain hat although Riptide's "pool boy" shorts had long since been discarded onto the floor. It was a bright day with sun streaming in through the bedroom windows. Azazel liked being able to see, everything.<p>

Riptide was on top of him, facing the opposite way, straddling him. Azazel lackadaisically stroked Riptide's body but was content to lay back this time and let Riptide do the work. Azazel just enjoyed the visuals and waited for their climaxes. To that end, his tail tightened its grip on Riptide and began to work more firmly.

"Turn around," Azazel requested after a bit. "I want to look at your face when you finish."

Riptide was happy to comply. He repositioned himself, turning around and then letting Azazel re-enter.

Looking into those deep brown eyes, Azazel idly speculated about why he never did it this way before with any of his former lovers. It was too intense, he realized. Making love while facing your partner allowed for a lot of kissing, eye contact, and much more overall physical contact. Before, it was easier to just thrust fast and hard without concerning yourself with how your partner might want it. It was easier then but emptier, less fulfilling. He looked up again at the sweat streaming down Riptide's face. His hair was damp. Riptide uttered a low groan and began to move faster just as Azazel's tail moved faster.

"Is my pool boy satisfied?" Azazel asked when they were finished, panting and curled up together.

Riptide chuckled. "Am I not supposed to ask if my captain is satisfied? I thought that is how the game works." He reached a hand over to rub against the bristles of Azazel's goatee. They were very rough but Riptide liked the texture.

Azazel reached for Riptide's fingers and thrust them inside his mouth. "The captain is more satisfied than he ever dreamed to be," he murmured a moment later.

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><p><strong>1965<strong>

Mystique hadn't wanted to, but she snorted when she received the wedding invitation and a disquieting sensation rumbled through her innards.

Azazel and Riptide's usual way of communicating with Mystique and Angel – the two members of the Brotherhood they kept in the most contact with – involved Azazel teleporting to Magneto's main base of operations. If he found no one there, he would leave a note. He would subsequently return to see if either a note had been left for him or if Mystique or Angel had returned. Most of their communication revolved around scheduling dates for the ladies to pay Azazel and Riptide a visit on _Sparta_.

Mystique returned from a mission to find not an inquiry as to their schedules but rather wedding invitations. Magneto, Angel, and Emma had also been invited.

There had been discussion over whether or not to invite Emma. Truth be told, by the time Azazel and Riptide had left, they had had no love lost for her. She had invaded their minds one too many times; they had been required to fear and obey her just as they had been required to fear and obey her former paramour. But they had an uneasy truce with her now too, and she needed to be invited to the wedding as well.

The only other guest invited to the wedding aside from these members of the Brotherhood was a man named Ivan, an acquaintance of Azazel's who was a doctor. He had patched both Azazel and Riptide up following various battles, over the years.

Mystique took a breath as she fingered the wedding invitation. She had to wonder how exactly Azazel and Riptide had managed to get such a lovely card printed. It had embossed gold lettering and the paper felt rich and soft to the touch. Azazel's ability to dart in and out and steal whatever he needed was impressive, but how did they manage this? Did they put a gun to the head of a hapless employee at a stationary store?

Mystique scrunched her features together. It was so **weird**, she told herself, this notion of two men getting married. She could accept them being lovers, she could accept her own blue scaly skin, she could fight now to the death for a world where mutants would reign. But why would two men want to hold a ceremony and publically pledge their love to each other? She felt a shiver of something, perhaps embarrassment.

"I think it's a wonderful idea," Angel said. She nearly startled Mystique; Angel's moves were often silent and catlike. "We get to dress up in our best. I'm going to tell Azazel that he owes us more jewels and furs so we that we can look good at his wedding."

"He's sure given us a lot of those over the years. Although you have to wonder," Mystique said, her thumb working back and forth over the invitation's edge, "does this mean he's not going to sleep with us anymore?"

With Magneto's permission, Mystique and Angel enjoyed occasionally partying with the two men. They talked, ate, drank, listened to music, danced, and Angel smoked with Azazel. One or the other would also spend the night with Azazel.

Why did Riptide allow it? Riptide's view was "Why not?" He knew that Azazel was attracted to some women and that he liked variety. Riptide wouldn't have minded some variety himself but he didn't know any other men who were similarly inclined – not any to whom he was attracted and who would visit him here. If Azazel wanted to fool around with the girls, Riptide was fine with it. Before one of Azazel's trysts, Riptide used to occasionally grasp him in a sensitive area and caution him with, "Just remember who these belong to." But he no longer even felt the need to provide such a warning.

Angel thought about Mystique's comment. "I don't know. I guess I'd better find a good time at the wedding to ask!"

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><p>There were other members of the Brotherhood whom Azazel and Riptide had met back when they had been on Magneto's team, but they were not invited to the wedding. The others had deduced the truth of their relationship quickly enough; they had sneered at Riptide, thinking him an easier target than Azazel. They had been surprised when their nasty comments (starting off with "Nice suit, pretty boy," but spiraling down quickly to the likes of "Oh, look, it's Azazel's bitch.") had not gone unchallenged. They had viewed Riptide's powers as subtle and indirect, until he had slammed them against a concrete wall so quickly that they hadn't had time to react. One of them had required hospitalization as a result.<p>

That type of disruption was one reason for Magneto's willingness to let Azazel and Riptide leave the Brotherhood, although he had others. He didn't believe in keeping anyone who didn't want to be there. Truly, though he would admit it to no one, seeing two happy men in love brought back memories that he had to fight daily to contain.

It was a good thing that the only attendees of Azazel and Riptide's wedding were Magneto, Emma, Angel, Mystique, and Ivan. It would have been a stretch to accommodate anyone else on _Sparta_'s deck. Each attendee was decked out in either a designer tuxedo or sparkling evening gown, the result of a gleeful, teleporting-enhanced stealing spree.

The wedding was a simple affair, with Magneto facilitating. The brave leader refused to admit to himself the pain caused by celebrating two men's love, reminding himself again that principles were more important than love. He would never have been happy spending his life on a boat, sailing away in fear when any other ship got too close. Even if Xavier had been at his side, he told himself.

The evening was cool and pleasant with a gentle breeze. The waters were placid and the setting sun cast a pink hue over the gentle waves. Angel and Mystique each did a reading, Angel's from Shakespeare and Mystique's written herself. Then Azazel and Riptide exchanged vows in front of their friends.

"My love, if I had nine lives to live, I would live them all with you," Riptide vowed.

Azazel spoke at much more length, praising Riptide's good qualities (his agreeable nature, his being open to new experiences, his caring) and making light of his less-sterling qualities (his propensity to sleep in and do nothing all day). He promised to share his life and commit his body, soul, and heart to Janos.

Magneto bid them to exchange rings and kiss, and then the party began in the dark night. As usual, there was much food, drink, music and dance.

"Azazel, do you mind if your husband and I dance this one?" Angel asked, when a slower song came on. "I like the song."

Azazel looked at Angel's flushed face, thinking that a combination of alcohol and dancing was causing the color in her cheeks. "Please do," he bid. "I am going to enjoy another cigar."

"Those things are foul," Riptide sniffed. "On the other side of the deck please, _amour_." He pointed.

After planting a quick kiss on Riptide's mouth, Azazel obeyed the order.

"Congratulations," Angel said, as she and Riptide slowly stepped to the music. They held each other in a formal dance hold which minimized their physical contact.

"Thank you. And I must say that I am glad for the camera. Everyone looks so beautiful tonight; I know I will look at the pictures again and again," Riptide replied. "You are lovely, and those diamond earrings are gorgeous on you."

"Thank you. I don't get to get dressed up too often anymore so this is really nice. And hey, since I'm drunk, I can ask this," Angel said, her eyes twinkling. "Do you think Mystique and I will still be able to visit? You know, visit and get with Azazel…."

Riptide almost rolled his eyes but stopped. "You know my view," he said, managing a brief shrug. "Azazel belongs to me. As long as you and Mystique know that and he knows it, I don't concern myself with what you do for fun."

"Thank you," Angel sighed. "I like the tail. Thanks to that tail, I come when I'm with him – I don't with any other guy and never have."

"Okay, you really did have too much to drink," Riptide laughed. "You never told me all this before, although I certainly agree that tail is wonderful. But if you had one drink too many, we should sit down."

He looked towards the deck furniture where Emma sat next to Ivan, absentmindedly flirting with him though looking bored. It was hard, Riptide knew, for Emma to have gone from being the previous leader's lover and right-hand woman to just another soldier in Magneto's army.

"Baby, I can dance in my sleep. I was born to do it." Angel pulled Riptide closer and continued with the steps. "I'm glad to see you so happy. I knew a guy once, he was queer like you. He hated it, kept going to these shrinks and doctors trying to get cured."

"I'd never do that," Riptide shook his head.

Her voice was raw from the alcohol, but soft as she asked a question. "Is there anything you don't like about it? You know…about being this way."

Riptide silently considered the question for a moment or two as he continued to slowly move to the music. "Just one," he said, his voice distant and a bit hollow. "I wish I could be a parent someday. I would love to have a child. But it's not possible."

Angel missed a few steps and took a second or two to regain her footing. His answer surprised her. She assumed there would have to be other, worse, things about being a homosexual, such as societal disapproval or rejection by one's family or just that it had to be really really weird to be a man and get into bed with another man when your parts don't fit together.

Had Riptide known what was in Angel's head, he would have protested that his and Azazel's parts fit together just fine, thank you very much.

"That's one gig I wouldn't ever take," Angel remarked flatly. "Being a parent. Besides, I can't. This wedding reception is a nice break for us; Magneto's got us running ragged." Their leader had already been teleported off of _Sparta_ and back to base, eager to get back to work.

When their guests had all been teleported back to their headquarters, Azazel and Riptide exchanged one more toast before hanging up their tuxedos and collapsing into bed. Riptide looked down at their rings and kissed them both. Azazel's heart pounded.

"It is not possible to be this happy," Azazel whispered. "To feel this good day after day. But that is how I am day after day here with you."

"It _is _possible to be this happy," Riptide insisted, agreeing. "We are proof."

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><p>Chapter Two coming soon! Feedback appreciated.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Hestia – Chapter Two**

**1966**

Riptide had been harboring a desire for months to enjoy a night on the town. It had easily been a year or more since he had experienced the hustle and bustle of a night out, and he wanted to take in a play, enjoy some overpriced cuisine, go dancing, and maybe visit a bar. Angel had recently visited Riptide and Azazel and she had also spent some time in New York City the prior month, whetting Riptide's appetite for it.

Arrangements were made, and Riptide and Mystique were teleported to the city for the first three items on the list. Although the noise and interaction with so many people were jarring to Riptide at first, he adjusted quickly; he had always been very adaptable. He and Mystique took in a musical, ate at an expensive restaurant, and went dancing. Once again, Azazel's ability to teleport and steal cash proved crucial to their escapade.

"I must be getting older," Mystique said, shocked to find herself yawning. She spoke loudly so Riptide could hear her over the music. "I'm done for the night." She may have had mixed feelings about having temporarily shifted into her former, conventional appearance but she had enjoyed the night.

"It is one in the morning," Riptide allowed, glancing at his gold watch. "You lasted longer than I expected you would. I know how hard Magneto works you."

They placed a call to a designated pay phone; a patient Azazel had been hiding near it for the past hour awaiting their contact. Azazel then teleported Mystique back to the Brotherhood's current base.

"Ready to return to _Sparta_?" Azazel asked, turning towards Riptide.

"Not yet," Riptide said. "I haven't been out in so long that I think I need another couple of hours on the town. Is that okay with you?"

Azazel's eyes had widened but quickly resumed their normal shape. Riptide looked so invigorated. Azazel knew that his spouse wasn't as reclusive as he was and Riptide had hardly set foot off of _Sparta_ for more than a few minutes at a time during the past year. He deserved a night out, and as much time as he wanted in order to feel that the jaunt had been worth it.

"You will not be bored alone?" Azazel asked.

"Well, you know how I feel. I'd prefer if you could come with but I know that's not possible," Riptide said. Out of habit, he took a few quick glances to ensure that he and Azazel were still alone on the street.

"Very well," Azazel nodded. "I will be back at this phone in two hours."

"Thank you, my love."

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><p>Two hours later, Azazel and Riptide spoke little before returning to their ship and settling down for bed. Riptide's voice was slightly hoarse, Azazel noted, but the man looked impeccable as always. His hair was not askew and he didn't smell of excessive alcohol, though faint cigarette smoke clung to him. Azazel smiled as he observed Riptide fall asleep seconds after hitting the pillow.<p>

Azazel was eager to ask his husband how his evening went. However Riptide didn't rise until nearly the hour that they normally prepared their lunch.

He emerged from the shower to find Azazel in the kitchen, surveying the contents of the cupboards and removing a cutting board. Riptide encircled his arms around Azazel and kissed the back of his neck.

"So how was it? Tell me all about it," Azazel asked, enjoying the feel of Riptide's strong arms and the soft terry cloth robe against him.

Riptide described his evening at length as they prepared lunch. He caught Azazel up on Mystique's life and what the Brotherhood was doing, their many battles against these apparently undefeatable X-men. Riptide echoed a comment he had made also during Angel's recent visit - he was so glad that they were retired and not battling these fellow mutants. He described the musical that he and Mystique saw, though it was quite lighthearted and flippant - not to Azazel's taste at all. He talked about their meal, having gotten a few ideas from the French cuisine. He gleefully bragged about his prowess on the dance floor, demonstrating a step or two. When Riptide stumbled during the dance demonstration, nearly colliding with the doorway, Azazel wryly remarked, "I hope you did better last night."

Riptide smiled, and then sat down. Azazel brought their plates to the table and joined him.

"What did you do after Mystique left?" Azazel asked.

"Well, I heard that there are now several places where men like us get together," Riptide said. "Bars. So I went to that part of the city and found a bar."

Azazel's rational mind was telling him that he had no cause for concern, but he noticed that his pulse had begun to accelerate slightly. During the passing of a second or two, he also observed that Riptide had looked down when he had said the words "men like us get together" and he was now whirling one of his fingers about, using his powers to create a slight gust of wind.

"They are called 'gay bars', I think," Riptide continued, looking at his wind gust.

"_Gay_," Azazel echoed, the one syllable word with its long "a" sounding very foreign on Azazel's Russian tongue. "Is that what they are calling men like us now?"

"I guess so, but I'm not sure where it comes from. I thought it means happy. Strange, isn't it, what words can do and how they can change? I wonder why this one changed like this."

Azazel noted that Riptide spoke those sentences quickly and that his eyes were still towards his fingers rather than Azazel. Riptide was usually, like Azazel, a man of few words.

Azazel didn't want to ask the question, but he realized that he really had to. "So, how was it there? Did you sleep with someone?"

"Yes," Riptide admitted. He exhaled. "I did."

"I see." He gritted his teeth.

"Oh, Azazel," Riptide said, ceasing the use of his powers and taking one of Azazel's hands. "Don't be like that. It meant nothing; I'll never see the man again."

"What did he look like?" Azazel asked. He jerked his hand back from Riptide's and his flinty eyes drilled into him.

"Well," Riptide smiled widely, "he was positively hideous! He had – what is it called – pimples, all over his face. His hair was greasy and he wore rags. He was very fat, and his stomach was out to here," Riptide said, gesturing.

Upon observing Azazel's look, which only grew more rigid and angry by the second, Riptide dropped his smile. "Okay, I'm sorry," Riptide said. "Joking. He was not bad looking. Nothing like you, of course, but not bad looking."

"What did you do together? Where did you do it? Did you let him fuck you?" Azazel rapidly fired off the questions.

Riptide's patience and conciliatory nature evaporated. He slammed his hand down on the table. Riptide's voice could come across hard as iron, too, and he did not hold back. "I am confused, Azazel. You sleep with Mystique and Angel **right ****here** on our _Sparta_, with me in the next room! You do this almost every time they come to visit, although it was very nice of you not to do it on our wedding night, I must add. Do I ever question you or act jealous?"

Azazel swallowed. "They are just girls. It has nothing to do with how I feel about you."

"Exactly!" Riptide exclaimed, launching his hands into the air.

"But there is one difference that is very important," Azazel insisted, leaning forward. "I ask you before. You give me permission."

Riptide was silent for several moments. He looked back down at his hands and toyed with the idea of creating more gusts of wind, but let it go.

Azazel knew he had him, and he continued. "I did not touch either of those girls until you said it was okay."

"You have a point," Riptide allowed. His voice quickly moved from soft back to stone. "But I must also say that this was the first time I have touched another man in all the – how many? - **nine** years since I first met you. Not once in nine years have I touched another! And you must admit that it was not…not crazy of me to think that this would be okay, given that you have been with others."

Azazel stood up, abruptly knocking over his chair. His voice was a mixture of sorrow and anger. "Maybe you should take some time to think about this, Janos."

With that, Azazel teleported away.

**MORE SOON!**

**Please review**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hestia – Chapter Two**

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><p><strong>1966, Continued<strong>

Riptide endured the longest 24 hours that he could recall, alone on _Sparta_. He considered cleaning the vessel from top to bottom. He eventually considered preparing something to eat but had no appetite whatsoever. He forced himself to attempt a nap but couldn't quite reach the serene state he needed in order to fall asleep. After not long, Riptide stopped trying to create diversions for himself and just tried to breathe, letting each agonizing minute pass slowly. He lay starting up at the ceiling and counting his breaths. He looked at his watch every few minutes, silently noting how long it had been since Azazel left.

Almost exactly 24 hours after his departure, Azazel reappeared. Riptide heard him before he saw him. Azazel materialized on the deck.

"I'm sorry," Riptide moaned, leaping out of bed and rushing towards Azazel. He hugged him, hoping he would not be rebuffed. "I'm so sorry and I promise I won't do it again! Forgive me, Azazel, please." He buried his face against Azazel's shoulder.

Riptide was relieved to feel that Azazel returned the embrace. They held each other for a long time, Riptide repeating his apology once more. He expected Azazel, after several long moments, to step out of the hug but he did not. Riptide finally initiated its ending, backing away.

"Please say you are back. For good," Riptide asked.

"I am." Azazel cupped Riptide's chin. "You were always more brave one, Janos. Even now you were first to admit that you need me, but it is the same with me. I need you too," Azazel said, his words soft and his eyes caring.

"I also want to say," Azazel began again, now smoothing Riptide's collar, "that you were right, Janos. It was wrong of me to tell you that you should not have done that, because of what I have done with Mystique and Angel over the years."

Riptide's mouth opened. He digested that, and then said, "And you were also right, Azazel. I should have asked you before instead of just assuming it would be okay."

Azazel nodded. "I have idea. Let us not do this again. I have had my fun with Mystique and Angel but I will be satisfied with you and one else, for the rest of my life. Let us no longer be with others."

Riptide pulled Azazel back into a hug, "That is a wonderful idea. Maybe we just needed to 'get it out of our system', as they say. Now we can be done with it."

"Yes. No one else compares to you."

"It is the same for me. You are the only one I love."

* * *

><p><strong>1967<strong>

Angel's baby was born during one of the coldest Januarys she had ever experienced. Azazel's stolen cash at least allowed her into a clean and well-maintained hospital, though every doctor and nurse eyed Angel as if she were a bloated piece of garbage. Whether it was due to the color of her skin, her lack of a husband, or partly due to what they assumed were her tattoos, Angel didn't know or care. A disguised Mystique was permitted to stay by her side.

If the prospect of labor and delivery did not cause enough anxiety, Angel and Mystique feared the moment the baby would appear. What would the child of two mutants look like? Given their connections, they had heard rumors of the existence of children who had two mutant parents. One rumor maintained that they bore – at birth - whatever odd physical characteristics their parents possessed. Neither woman had ever met a second-generation mutant though. Would the hospital staff harm the baby?

When the baby was finally pushed out, Angel had been enduring intense pain for nearly 30 hours and was utterly exhausted. She did not have an iota of energy left to fret about the appearance of the baby. A sweaty Mystique, however, finally exhaled. She may have been proud of being a mutant but Mystique still hoped for no trouble at the hospital. The baby looked normal.

* * *

><p>Azazel and Riptide were never easy to get a hold of, but Magneto's resources were becoming vast and he now had better tracking equipment. Mystique found herself on a boat, speeding towards the location where she believed <em>Sparta<em> currently sailed. She found the two men after several hours.

"Mystique! What is wrong?" Azazel asked. The look on the young woman's face and the persistence it would have taken to locate _Sparta_ made it obvious that all was not well.

"You might not believe this," Mystique said, the moment after Azazel and Riptide stepped aboard her vessel. "But you have to listen to this – we need you. We-"

Mystique was cut off by the sound of a baby wailing. Azazel and Riptide exchanged a shocked look when they took stock of the small bundle alongside Mystique.

* * *

><p>Angel had not taken to motherhood. The baby never slept for more than two hours consecutively. Angel was overwhelmed by the assortment of <strong>things<strong> the baby needed: formula, diapers, clothing, blankets, bottles. And she had no time to plan or think on her sleep-deprived brain, no money apart from what Magneto gave her. The Brotherhood's cavernous headquarters - filled with rough, callous men - was no place for a baby either.

Unsurprisingly, the Brotherhood members were not helping much. Mystique did what she could, but she didn't know much about babies either and never envisioned herself becoming a mother. She had no love lost for the baby's constant wails either. Magneto was not heartless, but this was a really bad time for one of his soldiers to be distracted. The Brotherhood was making great strides, Magneto starting to believe that with a few more pushes they could eliminate the X-men and gain the power they needed.

With each passing day, Angel believed that the baby would be better off with Azazel given that he was the father, and she begged one more favor of Mystique: to track down Azazel and Riptide.

* * *

><p>Azazel stood blinking, looking at Riptide as Riptide held the tiny creature swaddled in blankets. Azazel was nearing 50 years of age and had to admit that his life had taken many unpredictable twists and turns over the decades. He should be at a point now where little could surprise him, but he still felt his head swim for a bit at the sight of Riptide holding his daughter. '<em>You are a father now,<em>' he told himself.

"What is her name?" he asked Mystique.

"She doesn't have really one," Mystique admitted, with a tilt of her head. "Angel's just been calling her 'baby'."

"**Baby**?" Riptide echoed, his eyebrows raised towards the sky. "That will never do."

"I agree," Azazel said sternly. "We will give her name."

Mystique exhaled. She then looked around. "So, this is everything then. You'll be teleporting into drug stores a lot because the formula goes really fast. And you'll be doing a ton of laundry thanks to her diapers. Basically, she eats, poops, and cries. And sleeps, but not much." She handed them one other item. "Here's a book about how to raise a baby. I don't think Angel ever opened it though – she's so tired, hasn't slept much since before the baby was born - but maybe it will help."

Azazel nodded. He surprised himself then by verbalizing his thoughts, "Well, at least this is just temporary."

"Yes," Mystique agreed.

Mystique had conveyed Angel's wishes to Azazel and Riptide. She had requested that they keep the baby safe just for a year or so. Magneto firmly believed, Mystique said, that the Brotherhood would soon take over. When things settled down, Angel would return for her daughter. Azazel and Riptide had agreed to this temporary arrangement.

When Mystique departed, Azazel sat down and looked around. _Sparta_'s guest room was now crammed full with the baby's belongings. The bottles and formula he would move to the kitchen.

"How about the name Marina?" Riptide asked, still sitting, holding the baby. "It sounds good to my Spanish ears and I think it is a named used in Russia, yes?"

"Yes," Azazel agreed. For a moment his head swam and made an effort to focus his vision. He silently mouthed the name. "Yes, I like it. It reminds me of water, of the sea."

"Do you want to hold her?" Riptide asked.

"Yes," Azazel said.

Riptide slowly rose and delivered the baby into Azazel's arms. He looked down at the tiny bundle in his arms. Marina's skin was pale, though her full lips and wide nose boasted of her mother's distant African ancestry. Black curls crowned her head. Her eyes were clear blue, making Azazel wonder if she had inherited them from him.

"Are you really the father, do you think?" Riptide asked, in tune with Azazel's ruminations.

Azazel kept his gaze on the baby. "I don't know. Mystique said that Angel said that is so, and that I was only one she was with during that time."

"It is still hard to say though," Riptide said. His gaze was also fixed on Marina. "This is Angel we are talking about, former stripper…and worse."

Once the words were out, Riptide regretted them. Angel had been a good friend to them and it somehow felt disloyal to bring up her sordid past and question her honesty. Riptide considered saying more, retracting some of his words, but instead closed his mouth.

But Azazel didn't seem to notice. He kept looking at Marina. Riptide slowly moved over and planted a kiss on the side of Azazel's face.

"I suppose there is no way to say for sure," Azazel mused. "But I think her eyes are mine."

"I think so too. I know that many babies have blue eyes and they change color later. But I believe those eyes are yours."

Riptide walked to the pile of supplies Mystique had left and again began to take stock of them. "I'm glad for this," he continued. "Thank you for agreeing to it. I do not think that taking care of her will be easy, but I think we can do it. You know I had five sisters and brothers, and three of them were younger than me. I had plenty of cousins too. I know a little about this. I changed diapers before, believe it or not," he added, picking up a stack of the haphazardly folded cloth diapers. A half-empty box of safety pins sat alongside them.

"I can believe it. I remember you once tell me you would like this, like to have baby," Azazel began, slowly and quietly. "I think I do not realize how much you really want this until I see you with her just now."

Riptide reached over to kiss him again.

At that point, Marina began to cry. For such a tiny package, her wails were loud and demanding.

"Do you want me to take her?" Riptide asked, at the same time that Azazel said, "We need rocking chair."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	4. Chapter 4

**1968**

Once again, Mystique and Angel were being teleported to Azazel and Riptide's for a party. It had been three years since the wedding, and much had happened during that time. Mystique shuddered a bit when she thought of how much she – how much _everything_ – had changed. She remembered feeling unease that night three years ago, discomfort at the thought of two men marrying. Today her unease was due to a variety of less tangible but more pressing reasons.

This time, the festive occasion was not a wedding but rather a housewarming. Azazel and Riptide had traded in _Sparta_ and purchased a larger vessel. In keeping with the theme of ancient Greece, they named it _Hestia_, liking the connotations to home and family. With the 14-month old Marina to take care of, they needed more room. _Hestia_ was twice as big as the previous boat, with larger rooms including a total of three bedrooms now. The baby's toys filled one room already.

It was not only Azazel and Riptide's home that had changed however. Unlike at the wedding, Mystique and Angel were the only guests. Magneto sent his regrets, saying that he was too busy. In fact, Mystique and Angel were lucky he let them get away for a few hours. The X-men were powerful and Magneto's numbers had declined. Emma had left the Brotherhood sometime last year; rumor had it that she was going to form her own group, one more similar to the old Hellfire Club. Azazel and Riptide had not been contacted by Emma or asked to join the new group.

Azazel and Riptide had experienced angst over whether or not to invite Angel to their housewarming. She had been back only once during the past fourteen months to see her baby. Angel had glanced at the girl, declined to hold her, asked to sit down and said she felt sea-sick. She had been onboard the ship for less than ten minutes before asking to be teleported back. Angel's eyes had been cloudy, her movements slow, and she had made little if any effort to converse.

And such it was today during the somber housewarming party. The day of the housewarming opened with an unseasonable shower, and the sun never appeared. Azazel teleported _Hestia_ and its contents to a warmer locale before the party began.

Angel was nursing a new injury. Riptide looked at the way she limped and recalled the many injuries which had led to his and Azazel's retirement. They still had scars; they still took medicine for various aches and pains.

Mystique was different too. This past year with the Brotherhood had been difficult. One frustrating defeat after another, one injury after another. The X-men countered any gains the Brotherhood made, and Magneto grew only angrier and more despondent with each passing year.

The trials of the Brotherhood, however, were not foremost on **Riptide****'****s** mind. "She just learned how to do this in the past few days!" Riptide exclaimed, watching Marina. The baby could hold and drink from her cup without assistance from either her Daddy or Papa. "She is ahead of where the books say that most children are at."

"Of course," Mystique shrugged. "She's a mutant."

"Let me get the pictures from when she took her first steps," Riptide said, standing up and reaching for another photo album. "You have to see them."

Azazel observed the looks on their guest's faces, which were less than excited at the prospect of viewing more baby pictures. He stood up as well and asked, "Can I get you ladies more to drink?"

Both women brightened at that offer and accepted it. Azazel headed for the kitchen to procure more drinks. Although he wasn't surprised that Mystique and Angel were not fawning over Marina, he had expected a bit more interest on their parts, especially Angel's. He had expected Angel to ask how Marina referred to her parents (Azazel was Papa, Riptide Daddy), what she liked to eat (she happily accepted whatever they gave her including vegetables), how they managed to "child-proof" the entire boat (it wasn't easy), how she was sleeping (better than before but still not for as long at a time as they wanted), and what they planned to do regarding school and having her socialize with other children (Azazel and Riptide had utterly no idea here). But Angel didn't ask anything about Marina and only sat there gazing at the toddler as she propelled herself rapidly about _Hestia_.

"Let me help you with the drinks," Mystique offered. She followed Azazel into the kitchen.

Azazel and Mystique were now alone in the kitchen. _Hestia__'__s_ larger dimensions and thicker walls meant that they would not be overheard, especially not above Marina's chatter.

Mystique did not waste time. Her years with Magneto left her bitter and impatient. She placed her hand over Azazel's when he reached for the tequila.

"Will I be able to spend the night?" she asked quietly. She did not use the mellow, sweet voice that she had in the past. Her straightforward words sounded more like she was ordering lunch at a restaurant. "With you? I don't have much time but maybe you and I could get alone for an hour or two."

Azazel looked at Mystique. He had always found her beautiful. Men, he thought, were more achingly attractive and more boldly sexual - but women had their charms and their beauty too. Decades ago, young Azazel had been so accustomed to lack of intimacy and lack of sex, despite his intense yearnings, that he had cultivated the willingness to bed whoever would have him. Mystique's intense red hair and deep blue skin were as alluring as ever, and she had not aged at all over the years. `Unlike me,' he said to himself.

He took a step back as he answered. "I would like to, Mystique, but I truly cannot. You are beautiful as you always are, but it is the same as last time you asked. Janos and I no longer…no longer do this with anyone other than each other."

Mystique did not hide her disappointment. None of the men currently in the Brotherhood interested her. If she wanted sex, she could and did shapeshift into whatever form she needed and find a willing partner at a bar or dance club. But she found sex more enjoyable and climax much easier with someone who knew her body and knew how she liked it. Azazel had always been such a considerate lover.

"I was hoping maybe you two had gone back to how it was before," she frowned. Then she spread her hands and added, "But hey, I won't try to break up you love birds!" she forced a smile, trying to show a measure of graciousness in accepting the polite rebuff.

Azazel could not resist mirroring her smile. "It is good to know that one is wanted. And as I said, you are very beautiful still." He glanced in the direction of the deck on which Riptide and the others sat. "Sometimes we all take things for granted." He tilted his head. "Come now. Let's bring out the drinks."

* * *

><p><strong>1969<strong>

Angel was demolishing her tiny room inside the Brotherhood's current hideout. As her screams echoed down the hallway, Angel knocked over chairs, tore a pillowcase to shreds, and banged against the window with her fists.

"Mystique, make her stop!" one of the other members grumbled angrily. "She's **your** friend."

"I'm not going in there," Mystique answered, crossing her arms over her chest. "She'll cool down eventually."

Although Mystique had no idea when that would be. She had never seen Angel quite like this.

Angel's fury was due to the fact that Azazel and Riptide had refused to give Marina back.

Angel had decided that she was finished with fighting. Seven years in the Brotherhood had led to nothing but injuries, sleep deprivation, crushing disappointments, and working on a team whose members got only more uncouth each year – and Angel had coped with plenty of unpleasant characters in her lifetime. She wasn't getting any younger either. It was time to go, time to reclaim her daughter and start a new life.

Angel had no idea how she would support herself; Magneto's accounts had only covered room and board for his fighters. Angel was now too old to resume her former profession – men's tastes each year seemed to gravitate towards younger and younger girls, and besides Angel had too many scars and lingering injuries now. But she vowed to find a way, thinking that perhaps Azazel's ability to easily teleport in and out of bank vaults – he had a list of ones he frequented - would keep a roof over her and Marina's heads until Angel could figure out how she would support them.

She had had two interactions with Azazel and Riptide, trying to get Marina back. It was very clear that her daughter would not be returned to her.

Their first discussion had been almost civil. Angel had tracked down _Hestia_ and been welcomed aboard as always. Over coffee, she had sat with Azazel and Riptide and calmly explained her reasons for wanting to leave the Brotherhood. She had reminded them that their agreement was that Azazel and Riptide would watch over her only temporarily.

Azazel and Riptide had kept their expressions neutral, exchanged a look, and then Riptide spoke. "Angel," he began softly. "I'm afraid that's not possible. Marina has been raised by us for her entire two and a half years. She knows no other parent. She doesn't recognize you. We are keeping her here with us."

"But that's not what we agreed to," Angel protested. She tried to keep her voice level but it squeaked upwards. "I made sure that Mystique told you that I was going to come and take her back as soon as either the Brotherhood took over – or I left it."

"We made no such agreement," Azazel said coldly. His eyes looked directly into hers.

Angel fought to hold onto her emotions, outraged that Azazel would lie to her face. Maybe she had been a fool to think that it would have been easy. Maybe Azazel and Riptide had been fools to agree to this in the first place; they had to have known that they would become attached to Marina.

The three had talked in circles for an hour, though they had kept their voices civil because of Marina's presence. Marina had woken from her nap during their discussion and, without missing a beat, Azazel had escorted her to the bathroom and returned to their table to feed her a snack. Angel continued to insist that the men honor their agreement and the men had continued to insist that Marina was better off with them and that they had made no agreement with Angel.

Angel left frustrated, and had returned the next day. Her anger had simmered over a sleepless night, and Azazel and Riptide looked weary as soon as her boat had approached.

"I want my baby back!" Angel exclaimed, the moment she stepped on board _Hestia_. "It is wrong to keep a baby from her mother."

Azazel and Riptide were also apparently ready to abandon the niceties. "You want to say what is wrong?" Riptide asked. "To abandon your own baby is wrong. To try to take her back from the people who love her and raised her is wrong." His voice was steady and almost robotic.

"She is **my ****baby**! I gave birth to her. She wouldn't be here without me." Angel's face was red.

"She wouldn't be here without Azazel, either; he is her father. Nor would she be here if we hadn't fed her, changed her, played with her, and loved her for the past two and a half years. We will **never** give her up."

Riptide's voice again had been flat and strictly factual. Between his apparent calm and Azazel's silence, something inside Angel snapped.

"How dare you? This is outrageous!" Angel began to shriek.

"It is outrageous of you to even come here and try to take her back from us!" Riptide countered, this time the fire exploding into his voice as well. "How many times have you been to see her in the last two and a half years? No more than five times, by my count. And you never stay with her for any longer than a few minutes at a time. She has no idea who you are – but me and Azazel are **everything** to her. Everything! You cannot take her away from that!"

Angel started to protest but Riptide cut her off, speaking over her. "When you bring her here, she had no name!" he exclaimed. "You didn't even drop her off yourself. She has had nothing but what we give her!"

"I'm still her mother! You weren't the one in labor for those 30 hours, though maybe you wish you had been. You aren't fit to raise her, you, you – _maricon_!" she spat out. And then she topped it off with the English equivalent. "Faggot!"

Riptide returned Angel's insults. "_Puta_! Whore!" he yelled at her.

"Cocksucker!" she yelled back. "You take it up the ass!"

"At least I do not do it for pay!"

Marina had been happily amusing herself in her play room. Despite the well-insulated walls of _Hestia_, she could easily hear the commotion on the deck and, realizing that her Daddy was very upset, she began to cry.

Upon hearing her cries, Azazel stepped between Riptide and Angel. "We need to tend to our daughter," he said calmly, eyes drilling into Angel. "Angel, leave us. You must realize that you will never have Marina back. You cannot take us to court; we are all criminals. You cannot fight us; you have more injuries now than we did, and we are much stronger than you."

Angel opened her mouth to say more but Azazel gently placed his hand over it. Somehow this gesture was more shocking than if he'd struck her. His fingers felt cold against her warms lips. "Raising a child is much hard work. I do not think you would really like it," he said simply and almost casually. "So please, leave us now." He continued to look into her eyes and added, "Please leave on your own, rather than me having to teleport you away…somewhere."

Azazel had been the calm one during the entire altercation, but his threat could not have been more clear. Angel thought about it for a moment or two, and then silently turned to head for her ship.

* * *

><p>Over the next several days, Riptide and Azazel set about forgetting their encounters with Angel. Really, she had to realize that she <em>de<em>_facto_ gave up her claim on the girl due to her lack of interest, lack of visits over the years. Angel's current interest in Marina was, perhaps, a temporary surge due to the changes she was undergoing in her life, leaving the Brotherhood. When living on the outside Angel would soon realize that supporting one's own self, let alone raising a two year old, were difficult enough.

The men were sitting on their deck at dusk, enjoying an after-dinner drink. Marina had long since been put to bed. Azazel looked over Riptide's shoulder and noticed a disturbance in the distance.

"What is it?" Riptide asked, turning his head to follow Azazel's gaze.

Magneto slowly approached, using his powers to manipulate magnetic fields, allowing him to float above the waters.

Riptide and Azazel exchanged confused looks. This couldn't be regarding Marina, could it? Yet they could not remember any time that Magneto had visited them solo, without an invitation. They slowly rose from their table.

Magneto set himself down on the deck. "Good evening, gentlemen," he said.

Once again, Riptide and Azazel looked at each other. "It has been many years, Magneto," Azazel said, bowing his head slightly to acknowledge the man who had been their leader for a couple of years - as well as the officiator at their wedding.

The bow also bought Azazel a second or two to take in Magneto. Rifling through his memories, Azazel recalled having seen Magneto only once or twice during the past few years when Azazel had teleported one or both of the girls. Magneto's appearance was striking in terms of how much it had changed. His hair was now entirely gray although he could not be older than early forties. The lines on his face and the stony look in his eyes belied the fact that his past few years had not been any easier than his pre-Xavier years.

"Good evening," Riptide said. "Can we get you something to drink?"

"Yes, please. A cognac."

Riptide brought Magneto his drink and the three men sat down at the table as soon as Azazel cleared the dinner dishes.

"It is good to see you," Azazel said. "We know you must be very busy."

"And you suspect that this is not purely a social call," Magneto finished for him. "You are right on both counts. So I will get right to business." Magneto took a breath. "I have no love lost for Angel. She was never more than a mediocre fighter and now she's left the Brotherhood. The number of powerful mutants who are unwilling or unable to take up our cause has always been disappointing."

Obviously Magneto's comment was meant as a swipe at Azazel and Riptide among others, but Magneto continued on, not softening the comment. "But I believe she has a point. Marina is her baby, and Mystique tells me that you **did** originally agree to return her in a few years. When people give their word, they need to hold to it."

As both Azazel and Riptide opened their mouths to protest, Magneto raised a palm. His voice could still command their obedience. "One moment. You two **also**have a point. You have been her sole support and her only parents for her whole life, and it is completely unreasonable of anyone to expect you two to hand her over and never see her again." He paused. "Therefore, I would like to propose a compromise."

"A compromise?" Riptide echoed.

Magneto spoke calmly and almost softly. "What if Angel were to be allowed something along the lines of what I believe are termed 'visitation rights'? She could take Marina for a few days every month, for instance. You would primarily raise her but Angel could spend a few nights a month with her daughter. She did give birth to Marina, after all." He took a sip of his drink and concluded, "I spoke with Angel and she said this would be agreeable to her."

Both Azazel and Riptide were leaning toward in their seats and eager to speak. Azazel gave a brief nod to Riptide.

"I don't think we can agree to that," Riptide said. "It would be very disruptive to the girl. Angel has no job, no way to support herself. She doesn't know anything about how to raise a child. And Marina has no idea who she is – do you know how scary that is to a child, to be left with someone she doesn't know? Even if it is just for a few nights a month."

"I agree with everything Janos said," Azazel added, his fist clenched. "And I must add to that – we must think about Marina's best interests. This should be about what is best for the child."

"I understand what you are saying," Magneto said, again his voice almost irritatingly low. "What if Angel were to find a good place to live and find employment? There are a few more items you should consider. For one, I have state-of-the-art tracking equipment – so you would not need to worry about Angel trying to steal Marina and run away with her. Also, Angel might soon grow weary of parenthood and give the girl up permanently – perhaps she just needs to try motherhood in order to realize that it's not for her. Finally, my understanding is that many parents enjoy having some time to themselves without their children. You two might enjoy a few nights a month with just each other."

Magneto observed Azazel and Riptide once again exchange a look. He surmised that each one could determine, with speed and accuracy, the thoughts of the other man, just from that look. Magneto had told himself many times over the years that he was finished with thinking about Charles, but every time he saw Azazel and Riptide, inevitably the thoughts about what could have been resurfaced inside his mind. He was here only because he believed that it was the right thing to do and that Angel should at least occasionally be permitted to see her child. Angel deserved at least this effort from Magneto given her years of service and despite that fact that she no longer was one of his people.

However, Magneto was quite eager to leave. He was so used to controlling his body language that no one would have guessed.

"I'm sorry, Magneto," Riptide said. "Our position is that this is simply not in Marina's best interests. We don't even think it's in Angel's best interests. She chose to give her baby up to us, and that decision is final. I don't remember whether or not we ever agreed to return Marina to her – the whole exchange with Mystique when we took the baby in was quite rushed and overwhelming. But my understanding was that as soon as that baby, who was nameless at the time, was placed into my arms that it was permanent."

"And just one more thing that we must add," Azazel said. "I am Marina's father. Angel has no more say over her future than I do."

Magneto silently downed his drink as Azazel and Riptide watched him. They wondered if he would take action – did he value Angel enough that he would try to strike against them? But no, Magneto appeared relaxed. Did Azazel's last statement convince Magneto? All three men came from heavily patriarchal cultures in which the father's word was king.

Magneto stood up as soon as his drink was finished. "I urge you to consider my words," he said simply, "and to consider the compromise."

"And if we do not?" Riptide asked, proud that his voice belied no fear. He and Azazel had been away from combat for a long time. Other than Azazel's teleporting skills, their powers were largely unused. Unlike Magneto's powers.

Magneto shrugged. "I felt I had an obligation to urge you to consider Angel's point of view. I will not force the issue anymore. I wish you and your daughter well."

"Visit us again sometime," Azazel suggested as Magneto prepared his magnetic field.

Magneto did not reply, but silently said to himself, 'Not likely."

Angel made no further attempts to reclaim her daughter; Azazel and Riptide did not hear from her ever again.

* * *

><p><strong>TO BE CONTINUED<strong>

Feedback appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N:_

_A review of Chapter Four questioned the timing of the fic _vis a vis_ Marina's age. To clarify: Marina was born in January 1967. In the scene where Angel tries to get her back, her age is given as 2.5 years. That scene takes place in 1969, so assuming it takes place in the latter half of 1969, then Marina would indeed have been 2.5 years old at the time._

_Also, the rating of this fic has been questioned. The first chapter did contain a non-explicit lovemaking scene, as does this chapter so I figured better safe than sorry. _

_Thanks for the reviews; now onto the story!_

**1970**

With Marina down for a nap, Azazel and Riptide enjoyed some alone-time together in their room. They hurriedly undressed. Azazel lay on his back, with Riptide above him, gently spreading kisses over his body. One of Riptide's hands traveled lower and stroked Azazel. Azazel remained on his back, just enjoying Riptide's efforts.

"I see you are horny," Riptide murmured. "But you are lazy too. You are supposed to be 'a top', as they say."

Azazel frowned. Well, they had been together for thirteen years now. Maybe after all of this time, one must expect bluntness. Maybe after all this time you got lazy about your marriage too.

"I am tired. And old, with many injuries from years ago that did not fully heal. And to raise Marina is difficult," Azazel said straightforwardly. His goatee was streaked with gray.

"I know. But I miss it when you used to…to take me."

Azazel smiled. "To 'take you'? Are you reading – what are they called – romance novels?"

Riptide shook his head, as Azazel closed his eyes for a moment. Riptide had a point, Azazel knew. He could try a bit harder, aching muscles and fatigue aside.

"But perhaps you are right," Azazel allowed.

With that, Azazel marshaled his energy reserves and maneuvered upwards. He flipped Riptide over, onto his stomach. Azazel licked one of Riptide's ears while caressing his back and shoulder. His tail reached over and playfully smacked Riptide's rear, twice. They were light blows which did not deliver any pain.

"This is more like it," Riptide enthused. He then encouraged, "Use your hand and smack me again there, maybe a bit harder. And where is the lube?"

Azazel playfully chuckled. "You want me to 'take you', then I decide what we do next, no?" He reached a hand around to flick at Riptide's nipples, eliciting a few moans.

At that moment, Marina woke up from her nap, crying loudly. Muttered, resigned swearing in Russian and Spanish followed.

When they had first adopted Marina, Azazel had first been of the mindset that when she wailed, she should "cry it out". But Riptide had overridden him and the two men then had always rushed to tend to her when she cried.

Their intimate encounter would have to wait.

* * *

><p><strong>1971<strong>

"Why it rains sometimes but not always?" Marina asked.

_Hestia_ was heading away from the rain, but light drops were falling onto the ship and spotting its windows. Marina sat with her fathers in the dry kitchen.

Azazel and Riptide looked at each other.

"It is because the weather changes," Azazel explained. "It cannot be same every day."

"Why?"

This was the latest in a series of questions asked by Marina which stumped her fathers. "Why is the sky blue?", "Why do you have a tail Papa, but Daddy and I don't?", "Why do I need to eat vegetables?", "What makes our boat go?"

Neither Azazel nor Riptide was highly educated, to say the least. They might have grown up far from each other in terms of distance, but they had grown up under the same squalid conditions as much of the world. Poverty and deprivation had been their daily staples, topped off with an extremely low-quality education, one that had ended early.

Later that day, Azazel teleported away and returned with a few gifts for Marina.

"I think you will like this," Azazel said, grinning. He handed the wrapped gifts to Marina.

"Thank you, Papa," she said, once the wrapping paper had been torn off. Marina removed some of the wrapping paper but was assisted by her fathers. "Books. I love books."

"Not just any books," Riptide said, excitement in his voice as he leaned down to open them with Marina. "Science books. For children. They will help you answer some of the questions you have."

Marina flipped through the pages, frowning. The very smart girl could read a little already, though of course she required books targeted to the youngest ages for that. The first book she reached for was not only too thick and heavy, but it contained sentences far too advanced for her.

"I can't read this!" she exclaimed, frustrated.

"Patience, my dear. You will be able to read it. You are brilliant girl," Azazel said, patting her on the back. "Maybe not today, but you will learn to read them. They will help you with your questions."

"Perhaps someday you will be a great scientist," Riptide added.

"Maybe. I want to read them now. Read them to me," Marina ordered.

"What do you say?" Riptide prompted gently, not caring for Marina's tone of voice.

"Please."

"We will. At bedtime," Azazel promised. "First we must all finish our chores."

Later, Azazel and Riptide climbed into Marina's bed, with the girl between them. Now that Marina had been bathed, brushed her teeth, and taken a comb through her thick black hair, she was ready for bed. Each of her fathers held a book, as they did every night during their reading time with Marina.

"I want that one," she pointed to the book held by Azazel.

Azazel cracked its crisp binding and began to read. He placed a finger under each line, and read the text slowly and tonelessly, having to sound out some of the words. English was, of course, neither man's first language. They both spoke and understood it better than they read or wrote it. Azazel had a further disadvantage given how different his native Cyrillic alphabet was from this. These new science books – which were written for grade levels ranging from three to six – would be a challenge.

Azazel would stumble upon a word, unsure how to pronounce it. Marina would ask for a word's meaning, and both fathers had to admit that they were unsure. Marina did a bit of frowning and pouting, and Riptide gently told her that he didn't like her tone and that he didn't like to see pouting.

"What's pouting?" Marina asked.

"Oh, it's when a child acts like she's upset because not everything is going her way," Riptide said casually. "Like when she sticks out her lower lip or frowns because the world doesn't turn on her command. In fact, I think that no one likes to see pouting."

When Marina fell asleep, Azazel and Riptide quietly left her room, closed the door, and headed for the deck for their after-dinner drink. Azazel prepared the drinks while Riptide took a towel to wipe off the slightly wet deck furniture.

Riptide sighed as soon as Azazel sat next to him. "I worry about this every day," he began. "Her education."

Azazel touched his hand. "You worry too much, Janos. Marina will be fine. She has much more here than you or I had at her age. She has two parents who love her, for one thing. Neither of us had that."

Riptide nodded at Azazel's words. "We didn't," he acknowledged. "And look what happen. We each had a lot of bad years, we ended up working for that crazy man Shaw. It is a miracle we survived that, survived him." He took a breath and began resolutely, "Marina needs school. A good school. And she needs to meet other children." He paused. "I know you like being…reclusive. I have come to like it too. But I do not think she will be this way." Again Riptide paused. "There is so much we can't give her."

"You may be a little right," Azazel said, leaning back in his seat now. "But what can we do?" He spread his hands. He didn't want to state the obvious, but decided to anyway. "The way I look means I have to be a recluse. Magneto and his group certainly aren't any closer to having mutants take over the world and I doubt that it will ever happen now. And we are two men together. Raising our child together, a child who clearly has some Black ancestors too. The world hates us for being mutants and hates us just as much for being queer." Azazel hadn't mentally adopted the use of the word "gay". He then concluded with, "Marina being partially Black too does not help either."

Riptide looked down at his hands. "I know," he said quietly. "I know. What is…what is killing me is that I feel like we can't keep things the way they are either. We have to change something, but I don't know how or what."

There was one alternative, an alternative that both knew of but neither had mentioned aloud. Although they lived a reclusive life on _Hestia_, they still watched television and acquired the occasional newspaper. They might not speak with Angel or Magneto any more, but still had occasional contact with Mystique. They knew about Charles Xavier's school for gifted youngsters.

"There is that school of Xavier," Riptide began.

"Never!" Azazel responded, springing forward in his seat. "We fight with Magneto for two years. Xavier is our enemy." Azazel spoke rapidly. "He is…'Uncle Tom', I believe the saying is. I do not want to be friends with normal humans, do not want to fight to be peaceful with them. I do not want Marina to be in that school and be raised to be X-man. Xavier is telepath, and after all those years with Emma, I do not want my daughter around telepaths either. And we send her there – we never see her again. Xavier will corrupt her."

"He was Mystique's foster brother," Riptide offered meekly, though there was no energy around his words.

"That hardly matters," Azazel muttered, low and deep, almost sneering. "That was so long ago."

Riptide rubbed his temples. "You're right," he finally said. "Xavier's school probably isn't the right place for her. But I still say that we cannot continue with how things are either."

"I wish I know what to do."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**1972**

Azazel sat on the deck with Marina at his side. She played dolls with herself, wiggling them and voicing the characters during her game. Azazel had once brought home the largest dollhouse he could find, and Marina loved it.

"Papa, do I have a mother?" Marina asked, fingering the mother doll and the tiny plastic baby.

Azazel wished that Riptide were not currently napping down below. He struggled to remember exactly how he and Riptide had agreed to answer the inevitable questions.

"You have Daddy and me," he said, tousling her hair. "Are we not enough for you, my sweet?"

"You are," she said plainly, looking up at him. "But I don't have a Mommy too?"

"Do you see a Mommy here?" Azazel asked, and then regretted it. Marina might be smart but she didn't fully understand sarcasm either. He tried again, his voice now softer. "You did have a Mommy who helped bring you into the world, but it is Daddy and I who are raising you. We are your family," he managed, believing that those phrases was close to the ones he and Riptide had previously agreed on.

"Oh," Marina answered, and then went back to her game. Azazel watched her play, disturbed by the nervous feelings in his gut.

A few days later, Riptide and Azazel sat in their customary spot on the deck together, once Marina had gone to bed. Riptide held a newspaper in his hands. As with most items on _Hestia_, the newspaper had been procured during one of Azazel's nocturnal supply-gathering trips.

"I have not had a night out for a while," Riptide began. "I was wondering if I could go out sometime."

Azazel glanced at his husband. Riptide's head was tilted to the side and a conciliatory tone was in his voice.

"It has been a while," Azazel acknowledged. "What did you have in mind?"

Riptide shrugged. "Maybe take in some theater, a play. I – I would like to go to one of the big cities and learn a little more about this…this 'gay rights' thing too. You see it in the newspapers more and more. Men like us – women like us too – are demanding their rights. Even making their own magazines, their own groups. I would like a day or two just to see what it is about, maybe read one of their magazines, go to one of their organizations, hear what people have to say about it."

Azazel fought an urge to scoff. This type of thing didn't interest him much, although at least Azazel no longer did what he had years ago. Decades ago he would tell himself that he wasn't queer, remind himself that he was attracted to women too and always had been, and that any time he bedded a male it had been an aberration. Then Riptide had happened, and Azazel could no longer completely lie to himself.

It didn't mean he embraced this identity though, and Azazel truly had no appetite for learning more about "gay rights". He reminded himself, however, that the fact that it piqued Riptide's interest was acceptable.

Or was it?

"Is that really what you want?" Azazel asked, his voice low. "Or do you ask to get off _Hestia_, away from Marina and her questions? Maybe to find a handsome man for the night too, yes?"

Riptide had anticipated this reaction. He gently touched his hand to Azazel's arm. "Azazel. You know I love you, and only you. I won't be unfaithful. I meant what I said – I just want a day or two to learn more about this gay rights movement." He began to move his hands slightly in excitement as he spoke. "It – it is so…unheard of. When I grew up, you could be beaten up for this. Put in jail maybe. Now there are a lot of people standing up for themselves. It's exciting. And I have to admit that this is part of who I am – I am gay. Queer. Whatever you want to call it, it is what we are." He paused. "Actually, I think this movement is more exciting than what Magneto is trying to do for mutants."

Azazel silently took in his husband's expression and especially his features. Now in his late thirties, Riptide was still has handsome as ever. Azazel could be tempted to make analogies about fine wine, but even those didn't quite fit as Riptide wasn't really old enough for that. Perhaps he sported one or two wrinkles and he had gained a slight bit of weight, but truly Riptide was no less beautiful than he was on the day Azazel had met him. Azazel knew that practically any similarly-inclined man would hardly be able to resist pursuing Janos.

"What are you thinking?" Riptide asked lightly.

Azazel decided to tell him. He looked down at his drink. "How handsome you are. How every…'gay' man would fall in love with you just by looking at you. And how strange-looking and old I am."

Riptide rose and placed his arms around Azazel, kissing the side of his face. "Maybe you look strange, but you know that I thought you were attractive from the day I first met you. I never forget that day when I first saw you, how badly I wanted you. I was so glad when you made that move to me. I could not believe you wanted me too, how lucky I was. And now I stay here, day after day, year after year, with you and only you because that's how I want it. There is nowhere else I want to live my life, no one else I want to live my life with. I just want a little diversion now, a couple days away." He added, sternly, "But no sex with anyone else."

Azazel didn't quite know how he could hear Riptide's words, understand them, and believe them but still feel this strange, disquieting sensation in his belly. He had always known that Riptide, with his conventional appearance, could have existed in normal society had he chosen. Instead Riptide had decided to spend the last eight years here, on a boat with Azazel. They spent each day together. How could something be so mundane and yet so profound? And how could it have been this way for so long yet Azazel still believed he could lose it at any time?

"I will take you there, then. San Francisco maybe – for a few days? I take you there tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Riptide's trip and return were uneventful. He brought back a few souvenirs for Marina and told her just a little bit about his trip, but he had to be cautious. They still had no idea what to do about Marina's future and her education, and they had to be careful about not further whetting her appetite for the outside world. Still, it was inevitable. The girl had asked numerous questions, and Riptide had spent the day fielding them. He emphasized the unpleasantness of crowds and noise, he exaggerated the amount of pollution in the air and inside the packed buildings.<p>

Azazel had listened half-heartedly. When Marina finally went to sleep for the night, Azazel didn't ask Riptide about the trip. He sat on the deck with him, silently holding his hand and trying to think through the alien thoughts that filled him.

He believed that Riptide had kept his word and had been faithful. Yet Azazel couldn't say why the mere **possibility** that Riptide could have cheated was creating such inner turmoil. Why was he feeling resentful of Riptide? Strange notions coursed through Azazel's brain, such as the idea that he had given up fighting against the humans for Riptide's sake. Or the idea that he had taken on this daunting task of raising Marina, also for Riptide's sake. Resentment swelled inside his gut, although his brain told him it was illogical.

Azazel did not think over his decision at all. As soon as Riptide had fallen asleep, Azazel teleported away.

Mystique gasped at the apparition in front of her.

"I wasn't expecting you," she said, sitting up in bed but keeping the blankets covering her chest.

"It has been too long, Mystique," Azazel said.

"Yes. It has been a long time. And I have to say I'm not in the mood for a lot of talking right now. So I'll give you an update in two minutes." Mystique stated the words bluntly. Her face might appear the same as always, but Azazel could see the distant hardness in her eyes. "I have a new injury on my hip but I'm okay. One of the new recruits has really helped me with my hand-to-hand combat though. Magneto is the same as ever. I have no idea where Angel is. I hear Emma's new Hellfire Club is finally getting some traction, though they're spending most of their days living the good life instead of helping us defeat the X-men. No big surprise there." Mystique paused. "And I still think you are kind of a dick for not letting Angel spend a few days a month with Marina."

Azazel nodded, tacit acceptance of the insult. Although he knew he deserved much worse for what he was contemplating, what he would do assuming Mystique agreed.

"Marina is well," Azazel said, giving his own update. He remained standing in front of Mystique's bed in the semi-dark room, and he gave his update straightforwardly. "So is Janos. Marina is very smart. We bring her lots of books and she goes through them all. Janos and I never had much school but she is genius."

"Good. With that all out of the way, why are you here? Do you want to fuck me; is that it? Did you have a fight with Riptide or is he okay with this?"

"I do want you," Azazel said, his voice husky. He took a step closer to the bed. "You are still beautiful to me. If there is room for me next to you in that bed, I would like to get in."

Mystique twisted her lips to one side. "So you think I'm some bimbo who you can bed any time you deign to appear here, huh?"

She asked the question to buy some time so that she could decide what to do. So few men had ever told her that she was beautiful in her natural form. She wasn't a romantic, not anymore, however her body had needs that weren't being met. She still had the same problems as ever - shapeshifting into a beautiful woman and picking up a man at a bar rarely produced much physical fulfillment for her. In fact, it had been quite some time since Mystique had experienced sex and she did miss it. It was good to bed an old lover; Azazel knew exactly what to do.

"Not at all. I just think that for old time's sake, it could be enjoyable to us both. And like I said, I always desire you."

Mystique drew back the covers and welcomed Azazel.

During their coupling and despite her arousal, Mystique's thoughts strayed a few times to Angel and her pregnancy. Before Angel's pregnancy, Mystique had wondered if perhaps mutants were sterile – or at least if two mutants could likely not create a baby. Once Angel had revealed her pregnancy, Mystique had done some research. She had been so surprised and happy to see Azazel tonight that she hadn't thought to mention birth control. He certainly never did, Mystique wryly mused to herself; surely he viewed it as the woman's problem. Or, then again, perhaps he just wasn't used to linking sex with reproduction given his usual sexual experiences. Mystique considered saying something, but let it go. They were too far into things and she was fairly sure she had no condoms anywhere in her room anyway. Azazel was so warm, so eager, and his tail was once again doing that wonderful movement on her sweet, neglected spot which caused Mystique to lose touch with rational thought.

And really, what were the odds that she'd get pregnant from this one encounter?

* * *

><p>Afterwards, Azazel placed one more kiss on Mystique's mouth and then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He began to collect his clothing from the floor.<p>

"He doesn't know you're here, does he?" she asked, smirking and shaking her head. "You're such a fool, Azazel. A fool who's good in bed, but still a fool. Go back to him, and let's pretend this never happened and wipe it from our memories. If he finds out you were gone, you'd better do some groveling. You're a fuck-up today but I've never seen two people with this kind of epic love."

Mystique noticed that Azazel was slightly shaking. She squinted to try to see him better. Was he crying? Was that even possible?

"In fact, as much as I like you, we shouldn't do this again," Mystique added, her voice softening just a notch. "This should be our finale - for real this time."

"You are right. Our finale," Azazel agreed, and his voice was shaky and strained. "Thank you," he added, quietly.

* * *

><p>For weeks afterwards, Riptide had a suspicion or two but never voiced them. From the very beginning of their relationship, Azazel had treated him considerately, had always been a romantic when it was just the two of them. Despite that, it did seem odd that following Riptide's return from San Francisco, Azazel – who had not been thrilled about the trip in the first place – had turned on the charm. He was extra affectionate, extra considerate, kissing and hugging him, even in front of Marina though before both men had previously shied away from too much affection in front of the girl.<p>

Riptide simply encouraged and returned the gestures, liking them very much. It was good to see evidence that Azazel didn't take him for granted. Perhaps the extra affection was due to Azazel being glad that Riptide had returned, had truly not been interested in either joining this movement or running off with another man. Although an unpleasant suspicion remained, Riptide decided to banish it to the back of his mind; enjoy his long, happy days with his family of Azazel and Marina; and leave it at that.

* * *

><p><strong>1973 <strong>

Magneto was not happy about losing another warrior, although at least this would be a temporary loss. Mystique promised that she would return from Germany as soon as possible, and he didn't doubt her loyalty. In his estimation, she was the best member of his team.

"Should I ask who the father is?" Magneto asked.

"No," Mystique answered. Her voice was hard as steel and her face unreadable. "I am going to go to that home for unwed girls, give birth, and never see the baby again. The baby will be purged from my memory – just as its father already has been."

Mystique felt as resolute as she sounded. She may have been bitter and weary, but she still believed in the Brotherhood's cause. Motherhood would only distract her from it. You can't raise a baby as you try to win a war.

Mystique also believed that Riptide (and, to a lesser extent, Azazel) would have been a good father, but she knew that she could not give the baby to them. The temptation to check in on the baby and to make a futile attempt to bring him or her back would be too great. And that was even assuming that Azazel and Riptide would agree to raise the baby in the first place. Furthermore, she did not want the bad decision Azazel made that one evening to cause a rift between the two men. Better – far better – that they never learn of this pregnancy and baby.

She heard about the home for unwed, expectant mothers because of a casual reference made by a former member of the Brotherhood. She liked that it was in Germany; the Brotherhood had never had a base there and, loyal as she was, it would be nice to just get away for a bit. Mystique shapeshifted into the form of a young woman and boarded a plane for Germany. Her odds of ever running into the child again would, she told herself, be low or nonexistent.

Several months later, Mystique was exhausted, dazed, and had suffered more pain than she had ever before endured. Vaguely she heard the doctor and the nun exclaiming a word over and over again in German. Mystique, hearing her baby's cries in the distance, struggled to make out what the adults were saying. Then it came to her. _Demon._The baby looked like a demon! And then Mystique was able to understand more of the German phrases. "We have to get rid of it!"

Mystique, her mouth brutally dry, struggled to form words and then to translate them into German. "Wait," she croaked. "Wait! Don't hurt him. I know somewhere he'll be safe. I can bring him there." Her pleading voice was barely above a whisper and no one paid her any heed. As the baby was ushered out of the room, his cries became fainter and fainter.

**THE FINAL CHAPTER – COMING SOON!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven **

_A/N - A review of Chapter Six questioned the fact that the story indicates that the gay rights movement was active in the 1970's. In fact, the gay rights movement in the US indeed began in the 1960's - spurred on by the Stonewall riots. The 1970's saw a ton of activity by gay rights activists. A few examples: 1970 - the country's first legislative hearing on gay rights is held in NY. 1971 - The Gay Community Service Center opens in LA and provides counseling, a newsletter, and more. 1972 - The Washington DC school board prohibits anti-gay discrimination in the hiring of teachers, due to gay rights activism. 1974 - The Equality Act of 1974 is introduced in Congress (doesn't pass), which would've outlawed discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. Just a sampling of what the movement pushed for in the early 1970's. Source: "The Alyson Almanac: A Treasury of Information for the Gay and Lesbian Community", copyright 1990._

* * *

><p><strong>1973 (Continued)<strong>

Today Riptide decided that he would teach Marina about art. He didn't know much about it himself, but he could appreciate art in general. And he and Azazel had lately been taking the route of having Marina learn by doing. They did as best as they could with it on _Hestia_.

"Look what Papa brought us," Riptide enthused, pulling materials out of bags and spreading them on the table. "Watercolors! We can paint. And he brought us brushes to paint with, and all sorts of surfaces to paint on. Feel how different they all are. And look at the colors."

"Wow!" Marina said, her eyes lighting up. She eagerly reached for all of the new supplies, touching everything. "Colors!"

Azazel stood off to the side, his arms crossed. He was pleased that he had acquired the right supplies. His chest radiated a contented warmth as he watched Riptide and Marina. They spread surfaces on the kitchen floor and, at Marina's suggestion, decided to engage in a finger painting contest.

"Let's see who can draw Papa's tail better!" Marina requested.

"You're on!" Riptide agreed. He and Marina each knelt in front of their blank canvasses and set about finger painting. Marina kept taking backwards glances at Azazel, and specifically at his tail. Azazel swung it around and waggled it merrily. Marina giggled and resumed her finger painting.

"I'm gonna draw both Papa and Daddy!" she declared several minutes later, apparently forgetting about the tail-painting contest. After just minutes, Marina's face, arms, and neck were decorated with paint in addition to her fingers and the canvass.

Marina's picture emerged with lots of red hearts adorning the stick-figure iterations of her fathers.

"You draw many hearts," Azazel noted, leaning over Marina's shoulder as she worked.

"Of course. I love Daddy and Papa!" With that declaration, Marina reached for Azazel and kissed his cheek, and then did the same with Riptide. Azazel's heart filled and he thought it odd that he couldn't care less right now about how difficult it would be to clean the paint off Marina later on, let alone the messy paint splatterings all over his beloved ship's deck. His heart danced a bit at the sight of the pure joy on his daughter's face.

That night, Azazel and Riptide lay spooned in bed together. It was the comfortable position in which they always fell asleep.

"Thank you for this," Azazel said quietly. "I never would want to become father. But you wanted it, and we took in Marina because of that. I love her."

Riptide enjoyed the warmth of Azazel's chest against his back. "I should thank **you**, no? You are Marina's father."

"We both are," Azazel said straightforwardly.

"True. But…" he paused a moment to search for the right term, and retrieved it from his memory of one of Marina's textbooks, "biologically she is here because of you." Riptide was quiet for several moments, and then sensing that Azazel was a bit too overjoyed to fall asleep, he asked a question.

"When did you know?" Riptide asked, his voice a murmur. "Know that you and I were meant to be together? That it was more than just sex?"

It was Azazel's turn to be quiet for several moments. Riptide might have thought that his husband had fallen asleep but he could tell from the positioning of his arms that he was awake.

"Not at one moment. It was gradual. And I knew from way that you kiss me. The way the kiss felt. Then I knew it was more," Azazel finally said. "What about you?"

"I knew we'd be together forever just from the second time we went to bed together," Riptide said straightforwardly.

Azazel raised his eyebrows but Riptide couldn't see it. Riptide knew to continue. "You gave a lot away that night. Especially when you turned me around so we were face-to-face. That gesture and the look on your face…I knew something serious was there."

* * *

><p>"What's your job?"<p>

Marina sat between her fathers on their sofa. They had just finished reading with her a brightly-colored book that illustrated different adults working in many multiple professions, which had raised questions inside Marina's head.

"We raise you," Azazel said tonelessly, his eyes narrow. He had an inkling as to where this conversation was going. Why did Marina have to be so perceptive?

"But…you tell me that people work to get money. So how we get money?"

Azazel and Riptide exchanged a look behind Marina's head. Her hair was still jet black and her eyes still blue; they were Azazel's eyes. They dressed her each day in a different frock, with Mary Jane shoes on her feet. Riptide styled her hair differently every day; today it was in "Princess style" which was the term Marina had selected to simply mean that her hair was down with the sides pulled back and clasped with a sparkly barrette.

"Papa and I have special powers," Riptide said, words he had uttered to her before. "Papa brings us money." He smiled as he said the words.

Then, hoping to perhaps change the subject, Riptide added, "You might have special powers someday too."

Marina seemed uninterested in this possibility. She fingered the pages of her book about careers. "Papa brings me toys and dolls," Marina said.

"Yes. Many toys and dolls."

Marina turned towards Azazel. "Do you buy us these things? And where do we get the money from?"

"We will tell you later," Azazel said gruffly, his face turned away from his daughter.

"I read that stealing is wrong. We don't steal, do we?"

Azazel looked at the clock hanging on the wall. "It is time for your bed, my sweet." He abruptly rose from the sofa.

"Yes," Riptide said. "Let's get you into your nightgown." He stood too, though his voice was mild and he couldn't meet Marina's intense gaze.

* * *

><p><strong>1974<strong>

Some major life shifts happen instantly, shockingly. Others are like water carving patterns into rock. It had been ten years since Azazel and Riptide had retired and begun their life together on a boat. Seventeen years since they had first laid eyes on each other and become inseparable. Their daughter had just turned seven.

Azazel and Riptide now sat on their deck, holding hands, occasionally reaching for their after-dinner drinks. It was a ritual they had repeated thousands of times now. Most evenings they were contentedly silent, enjoying the quiet after a day with the garrulous and busy Marina. They didn't express themselves much through words, but gestures usually sufficed and they employed them often. Riptide silently stood up and began to rub the muscle relaxing cream (which he wryly noted had the words "Ben Gay" on the label) into Azazel's sore shoulders and back.

As Riptide worked and Azazel felt the stinging warmth provide some balm to his aches, Azazel's mind slowly churned over ideas it had been considering for a while. When Riptide finished, Azazel kissed his mouth and ran a few fingers through Riptide's hair before Riptide sat back down next to his husband.

"So, I think about this a lot," Azazel began, breaking the silence. His voice sounded loud and crisp on the still evening waters. "Maybe we get a house. A house on land. It can have…furnished basement, I think that is what it is called. So I can live in the basement and on _Hestia_ – I can teleport back and forth. So I can still be recluse but Marina gets what she needs. You and Marina live in the house…sometimes come back to _Hestia_ with me too but also live in house. She can go to school. Make friends."

Riptide nodded, considering these ideas. He had been thinking of them himself. "She's seven already. It will be hard for her to adjust to being around other children after only seeing them on TV and reading about them."

"Yes. But she is brave little girl, smart one too. I believe she will manage." Azazel grasped his husband's hand. There was some residue from the warming cream still on his fingers.

"Oh, she definitely will. But it will be hard at first," Riptide said, squeezing Azazel's fingers and looking into his husband's clear eyes.

"We will need to carefully pick where to buy house," Azazel said. "You will appear to neighbors and parents at the school as a father with no wife. 'Single father', I think that's what they say. And we need to find place that is open-minded, since you are Hispanic and Marina is partially Black."

"And Marina might someday develop mutations," Riptide added, leaning forwards. He then laughed. "But maybe we cross that bridge when we come to it."

"We still have time." Azazel paused. "We will need to tell Marina not to tell any others that she has two fathers." He took another breath. "And this plan means that you will have much interaction with normal humans."

Riptide shrugged. "I don't hate them. I don't like them, but I don't hate them. And it won't be that much – maybe at the school, or when I take her to the park."

Azazel raised his eyebrows. "But think of what we see on TV. She will make friends. There will be birthday parties. Maybe she play sports like girls nowadays do. You will have many other parents to deal with, and teachers, coaches..."

"It is not something I look forward to, but I will manage for her sake," Riptide said, taking a breath. "And as long as you are there with us. Either in the finished basement, or teleporting us back to _Hestia_ – as long as you are there with us," he repeated.

"It goes without saying. My life is with you and her," Azazel said resolutely. He then turned his head, subconsciously looking in the direction of their bookshelf, thinking about research. "Do you have any ideas on where to live?"

Riptide was quiet for a moment. "A big city. Like you said, we need somewhere with open-minded people. People will constantly ask me what happened to my wife and why I am alone. We need somewhere with people of all races. I will not allow someone to turn up their nose at our daughter because of her skin color and features."

"There are people of many races and a lot of gay people in San Francisco," Azazel offered, with a tilt of the head.

Riptide furrowed his brow, as Azazel continued. "Probably not so many have children, but maybe some do. That might be good place," Azazel concluded.

"I thought that perhaps you would not like that so much," Riptide said. "Do you worry I'd be tempted?"

Azazel was quiet for many long moments. He moved closer to Riptide and pulled him into his arms. "I trust you," Azazel said. "Wherever we go, it will work. We love each other. We're a family."

**THE END **

_I hope you enjoyed this fic. It's the longest Azazel/Riptide fic I've written and I hope it worked for you._


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